Struggling With Each Step
by Military Mechanic
Summary: She tries, so very hard. To make them proud and make them see that, just because she was born sick, she isn't worthless. She isn't less than any other warrior out there. And, when the storm hits, she can survive just like the rest of them. written for the warriors challenge forum


A/N: so, this is my first challenge for the Warriors Challenge Forum. it's also only my second piece of work for Warriors, so i would love some input. if possible, check out my other work too!

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A - all

Littlekit isn't allowed to leave the nursury, even though her siblings do. Most days, she isn't even allowed to leave her mother's nest. No, Feathercloud keeps her frailest kit beside her at all times. Kept safe. Kept sheltered. Kept away from the world outside - but is this what needs to be done, the medicine cat wonders? Or is this just making things worse?

B - better

_Is it because they're better than me,_ Littlekit wonders, _or because I'm sick?_ Her mother, of course, has assured her that it's only because she is too ill to become an apprentice - too ill to so much as leave the nursury, and so she is still curled up in her nest while the rest of the Clan gathers before her leader. She cannot help but wonder, though, if it's because of something else. Because...they have a chance at making her proud, and she doesn't.

C - cloud

Littlekit is eight moons old when she leaves the nursury for the first time. She isn't going far, just over to the Embercloud's den for some herbs, but her steps are still uneasy. The short treck leaves her gasping for breath, desperatly trying to pull air into her lungs and quell the shaking of her body. Yet it's worth it, she decides, to finally be out beneath the clouds.

D - desperate

"Please, Embercloud! Please, tell my mother that I'm strong enough!" Littlekit begs the older she-cat. She is standing in the middle of the ginger cats den, body trembling and eyes far too wide, far too unfocused. "I have to become a warrior, too! I just have to!"

E - even

She is given Thrushpelt as a mentor, as well as explicit instructions. No Gatherings. No battles. No patrols. Never leave the camp without her mentor, never argue with an order. If she's tired, go straight to Embercloud's den. So, while she is Littlepaw now, the silver she-cat is still not even with her siblings. She doesn't think that she ever will be.

F - fight

Wave after wave of nausea sweeps through her thin body. The feeling is strong enough that it makes her mouth salivate and her breath come in shakey pants, a clear sign that she should just go back to camp. But she doesn't, not this time. Not now. Instead, she does her best to take a deep breath and fights her way through it. Then she nods at Thrushpelt - a sign that she's ready for the next move to be shown.

G - grave

"If she keeps acting like this, then she'll die within the moon." Embercloud states, and though her voice is carefully blank, her dark green eyes betray her worry. Littlepaw has grown on her, just as she has grown on most of the WindClan. "Harestar, she _must_ stop her training. Now."

H - hate

"No!" Littlepaw yowls, shaking her head. Thrushpelt tries to calm her down, moves to press against her, but she scrambles backwards. Her light silver ears are flat against her skull, green eyes shining with anger. With betrayal. With hate. "I won't do it! I won't stop training! You _can't_ give up on me, Thrushpelt, you promised me that you wouldn't! You promised me!"

I - ignore

Sent to the elder's den, that's what they do with her. Yes, they apologize and they tell her it's for the best and they all stop by to talk - but she never answers, never so much as looks in their directions. Her brother, Smokeheart, visits her every day. So does Thrushpelt and several other warriors. They try to console her with honey-coated words and by dancing around the subject that they see her as a lost cause. Every day, to every cat, Littlepaw merely turns her gaze away and ignores them. For she has all but given up on them, too.

J - justice

One day, Harestar comes in to visit Littlepaw. He asks her how she's doing and, when she answers him with a vacant stare and silence, asks what's on her mind. For the first time in a while, Littlepaw answers. "When I was young, my mother used to tell me stories about you. She said that the cat who lead us before you was a horrible she-cat named Fogstar. When you took over...you swore to only do your Clan justice. Is this justice, Harestar? Because that's not what it feels like." She never recieves an answer.

K - kin

Littlepaw isn't alone in the world. No, in reality she is surrounded by her kin. Her mother, Feathercloud. Her siblings, Smokeheart and Ashleaf. Her Clan, because all of WindClan consider each other kin. Yet, in the elder's den, curled up in the moss inbetween Greybird and Volefoot, she feels completely alone. She feels...lost.

L - labyrinth

When she wakes up, Littlepaw finds herself lost in a labyrinth of trees. They are gnarled, old things the likes of which she has never seen before. For a while, she runs - but then her shaking legs give way and she lands in a heap of fallen leaves, the scent of decay clogging her nose. Echoing around her is a voice, one she has never heard before. Clear yet gentle, as though it's trying to encourage her. _"Don't ever give up, young one, not now, not ever. You _are_ needed. They just have yet to realize this."_

M - minor

In the grand scheme of things, Littlepaw knows she is just a minor cat. Unwanted by most, unneeded by the rest. Yet, when she walks up to her tan-furred leader, shoulders squared and pelt drawn tight against bone, she feels as though she is giant. As though this one moment will define so much more. "Harestar. I want you to train me."

N - new

This is new, Harestar thinks to himself one night. He sits in the middle of the clearing, watching as cats mill about the camp. His dark green eyes are currently watching the gaunt form of Littlepaw; who is making her way over to where the deputy, Boulderfang, is sitting. For a moment, they exchange words too soft for him to catch. Then Littlepaw sits down beside the large, black tom and they begin to eat. Yes, the leader muses, it's new but not unwelcome.

O - over

Every day, it's the same thing. Morning prey. Quick grooming. Check over by Embercloud, who tuts and shakes her head in dissaproval but allows her to leave none the less. Hunt down Harestar. Go to the Training Patch. Crouch, stalk, rest. Stalk, crouch, rest. Crouch, leap, rest. Leap, swipe, rest. Over and over, as unchanging as the order of the seasons. Littlepaw has her days memorized - right up until the weather changes and it begins to rain. Then, once more, she finds herself ordered to stay in the apprentice's den. Day in, day out, over and over again.

P - pitch

The sky is pitch black, even though it should be sun-high. Thick, dark clouds cover the sky. The air is hot and damp, and every cat is on edge. This storm? It will not be like any other they have seen before. They can tell that, even when they don't know why. And, from her spot in the entrance of the apprentice's den, Littlepaw cannot help but notice how antsy Shrew-whisker's kits seem.

Q - quiet

WindClan was right. The past few days have been nothing but the quiet before the storm and, oh, is it storming now. Thunder crashes loud as a tree falling through their camp, lightning keeps the sky lit as though the sun is shining. Wind rips and tears at the dens and the few cats who stray outside of them, threatening to pull them off their paws and into what would clearly be their death - and with the brush that it yanks from the ground, the gusts of wind also carry away their prey. Their safety. Their hope. For what can they do against weather? Nothing. Nothing but pray to StarClan for help.

R - rush

"My kits! My kits!" Shrew-whisker wails, her frightened cry almost lost in the roar of the storm. "Sandkit! Berrykit! Gorsekit!" _Gone_, Littlepaw realizes, eyes narrowed in an attempt to see through the onslaught of rain. It clouds her vision, making even the den across from her all but unseeable. As soon as that thought crosses her mind, another follows suit. One that, with this weather, no cat will be sent out to look for the missing kits. So she glances at Sootpaw, who is hunkered at the back of the den, and then she takes a deep breath and rushes into the storm.

S - spirit

_One, two. One, two. One, two._ Every step is a fight, as Littlepaw's long-standing illness works against her. The muscles in her legs burn and she is cold, so very cold. Her thin pelt is incapable of keeping the chill of rain from invading her, nor can it block the pain that courses through her body with every droplet of water that slams into her body. But she doesn't stop, not now, not ever, because those kits depend on her. For once, someone is depending on her. She refuses to let them down.

T - trust

"Don't worry, Sandkit." Littlepaw says. She tries to sound calm and reassuring but she is in so much pain. So tired and cold and worn. Her voice trembles and her breath comes out in raspy gasps. The tawny she-kit just stares out from the half-flooded burrow with wide, amber eyes. Behind her, the two tom-kits shuffle and mew pathetically. "You can trust me. I'll get you home."

U - up

Gorsekit has injured his hindleg somehow and, unable to walk, must be carried. Sandkit and Berrykit keep inbetween Littlepaw's forelegs, weaving back and forth between the trembling limbs. The frail, silver she-cat wants nothing more than to collapse, right then and there. To lay down and never get back up. But she doesn't. Instead, she keeps her now-clouded gaze locked on what she hopes is the path back to camp and keeps walking.

V - virtue

Patience is a virtue, or so Shrew-whisker's great grandmother once told her. No matter what happens or what you face, you should always stop and think. Stop and wait. A path will be made clear to you. When a small, almost unnoticable shape staggers into the camp in the middle of a downpour, she realizes that her great grandmother was right.

W - wish

One wish, Harestar has promised her. Whatever she wants. Be it to be exempt from something, included in something, or given a new nest. Anything that he has the power to obtain, she can ask for. Because she saved those three kits when no other cat was even willing to try - and for it, she will most likely die. So she looks up at him, surrounded by Embercloud's herbs, and says only one thing, "to be a warrior."

X - Xenoglossy

Around her, the camp shines with stars. Ever shrub, every den, every grain of sand...they all glow with the same strength as Silverpelt. It sets Littlepaw on edge though, because she doesn't want to be here. Not yet. Not before Harestar finally makes her a warrior - and by now, she is far past her prime, readying the age of a senior cat. So, when that same voice from before begins to flood her senses, her heart plummets. _"They see you now, little one, don't they? Tell me...is this pain worth it?"_

Y - yes

"Yes." Littlepaw says, and with that single word she is no longer an apprentice. She is Littlestep, warrior of WindClan. She is fragile, ill, and struggling with hacking-cough. But she is strong, or so said that mysterious voice the night before, and it isn't yet her time to go. Instead, it's time for her to live. To fight. To protect - and she swears that she will.

Z - zen

She is at peace now, moons later. Resting in the warriors den, pelt brushing with Boulderfang's. In several days, she will be instructed to change dens. The nursury, where she will sleep for five moons. Then six more, with a litter of hopefully healthy kits resting at her belly. And if they aren't healthy? Well then, she will just make sure that she is always there for them.


End file.
